Date: March 5th, 2012.
Location: BCCI Headquarters, Cricket Centre, Wankhede Stadium, Mumbai.
Time: 11:00 AM.
The conference room on the top floor of the Cricket Centre offered a panoramic view of the Wankhede Stadium—the very ground where history had been written a year ago. But the mood inside the room was far from celebratory.
The air conditioning hummed a low, monotonous drone, chilling the air, but the atmosphere was heavy with the heat of difficult decisions.
The Selection Committee, led by the flamboyant Krishnamachari Srikkanth, sat around the mahogany table. Files, statistical printouts, and tour reports were scattered across the surface. Coffee cups, half-empty, sat next to plates of untouched biscuits.
At the head of the table sat N. Srinivasan, the BCCI President, observing silently. And next to him, looking calm but weary, was the Indian Captain, Mahendra Singh Dhoni.
The topic was the future.
The Tri-Series in Australia had been a wake-up call. The seniors were fading. The team was in transition.
"Gentlemen," Srikkanth broke the silence, tapping a pen on his notepad. "We have the Asia Cup coming up. Then the T20 World Cup later in the year. We need to finalize the squad. But before we pick the 15, we need to address the elephant in the room."
He looked at the name at the top of the 'Senior Players' list.
Virender Sehwag.
"Viru is a legend," Mohinder Amarnath, one of the selectors, said softly. "But the reflexes are slowing down. The shoulder injury has affected his throwing arm. He is a liability in the field on big grounds. And the runs... they aren't coming consistently."
Dhoni nodded slowly. "He is a match-winner. But we are building a team for 2015. We need legs. We need speed."
"So," Srikkanth said, leaning forward. "We agree. The Vice-Captaincy needs to change. Sehwag steps down. We need a new deputy. Someone who can learn from MS and eventually take over."
The room went quiet. This was the most important decision they would make all year. The next Vice-Captain would likely be the next Captain of India.
"We have two candidates," Srikkanth announced, sliding two dossiers to the center of the table.
Dossier A: Virat Kohli.
Dossier B: Siddanth Deva.
"Let's discuss Virat first," a selector from the North Zone said. "He led the U-19 team to a World Cup win in 2008. He has leadership in his blood. His performance in Hobart... that 133 not out... it showed he can handle pressure. He is aggressive. He represents the new India."
"True," Amarnath countered. "But he is emotional. He wears his heart on his sleeve. We saw him in Australia—the finger gesture to the crowd, the arguments with bowlers. Is he ready to handle the diplomacy required of a Vice-Captain? Does he have the cool head?"
"He has the fire," the North Zone selector argued. "Dhoni is Ice. Kohli is Fire. It's a good balance."
"Now, let's look at Deva," Srikkanth said, opening the second file. "He debuted in 2008, same as Virat. But look at what he has achieved in four years. It's frankly ridiculous."
He read the stats aloud, the weight of the achievements silencing the room.
2009 T20 World Cup Winner & Man of the Tournament.
2010 ICC Champions Trophy Winner & Man of the Tournament.
2011 ODI World Cup Winner & Man of the Tournament.
IPL: 2 Orange Caps, 2 Purple Caps (and a Title as Captain).
"The numbers are alien," a selector muttered. "He is a machine. He has been the best player in the world since he was 18."
"It's not just the numbers," Srikkanth said. "It's the adaptability. He has played for Deccan Chargers since 2008. He has seen the lows of 2008 when Deccan Chargers lost the final and the highs of the winning 2009 title. When Sangakkara left, he stepped up as captain and won the IPL again. He defended 206 against CSK at Wankhede. He chased 198 against CSK at Chepauk."
"He is young," the skeptical selector pointed out. "Still only 20. But his resume is heavier than most veterans. Is there a risk of burnout? He does everything—bats, bowls, fields at point."
"He seems unbreakable," Amarnath observed. "He bowled 40 overs in a Test and then scored a double century. His fitness is elite. And he never loses his temper. Have you ever seen him angry?"
The debate raged for thirty minutes.
Team Kohli argued for his U-19 captaincy experience and aggression.
Team Deva argued for his unparalleled winning record and composure.
Finally, Srikkanth raised his hand.
"We are going in circles," he said. He turned to the man who mattered most.
"MS. You are the Captain. You have played with both since they were rookies. Who do you want standing next to you at mid-off when the game is slipping away?"
MS Dhoni sat up. He pushed the files aside. He didn't need stats. He had memories.
"Virat is a good player," Dhoni began, his voice measured. "He has the passion. He wants to win every ball. When I look at him, I see a hunger that scares the opposition. He will be a great leader one day."
He paused, interlacing his fingers.
"But you asked about pressure. You asked about winning."
Dhoni looked out the window at the stadium seats.
"I have stood beside Siddanth in three World finals," Dhoni said quietly. "In 2009 T20 World Cup, he scored 188 against Pakistan in the final. In 2010 Champions Trophy, he was good in the final. In 2011, we finished it together. He doesn't just play well; he finishes tournaments."
The room was listening intently.
"I played against him in the IPL Final," Dhoni continued. "Chennai vs Deccan. Chepauk. My home ground. The crowd was 99% Yellow. We had posted 197. We had them 115 for 4. The win predictor said 92% CSK."
"Any other 20-year-old would have panicked. Sid didn't. He calculated. He broke the chase down mathematically. He manipulated the field. He hit 5 sixes off Albie Morkel not because he was angry, but because he saw a weakness."
Dhoni looked back at Srikkanth.
"Virat reacts to pressure. He fights it. Siddanth... he absorbs it. He slows the game down. He thinks three overs ahead. He has won two Orange Caps and two Purple Caps—that tells you he understands every aspect of the game. When I leave, I want the team to be in hands that don't shake. Sid's hands don't shake."
"So?" Srikkanth asked.
"So," Dhoni nodded firmly. "I would say Deva. He is ready. He has been ready since 2009."
Srinivasan, who had been silent, finally spoke. "The boy has a good head. He understands the game, and he understands the brand. He is the face of Indian cricket. It makes sense."
Srikkanth closed the files. "It is decided then. We recommend Siddanth Deva as the Vice-Captain of the Indian Cricket Team for the Asia Cup and beyond."
---
Location: Deva Farmhouse, Shamshabad.
Time: 12:30 PM.
The sprawling lawn of the Deva Farmhouse was filled with the relaxed laughter of old friends. It had been months since the "Boys from Hyderabad" had been in the same room. Deva had been touring the world; Arjun had been building a tech empire; Sameer and Feroz were finishing their degrees.
They sat on cane chairs under the shade of a neem tree, plates of mirchi bajji and cut fruits on the table.
Sameer leaned back, tossing a grape into the air and catching it in his mouth. "So, let me get this straight. You met the Queen of England, you beat the Aussies at the MCG, and you are still driving this Tata Sumo Grande? It looks like a government vehicle, Sid. You are the Vice-Captain of India! Buy a Ferrari! Or at least drive your Swift Dzire."
"It was free, Sam," Deva laughed, peeling an orange. "Man of the Tournament prize from 2010. It runs, it has AC, and it fits all the kit bags. Why spend money on cars?"
Feroz shook his head. "You are the richest miser I know. But forget the car. Tell us about the Bolt 1. Arjun showed us the prototype. It looks like something from Star Trek. Are we really making phones now?"
Arjun, who was typing on his tablet, looked up. "Not 'making', Feroz. 'Revolutionizing'. We just signed the deal for the assembly plant land. 10 acres, just down the road from here. Deva is going to be the landlord of Silicon Valley South."
Deva smiled, looking at his parents. Vikram Deva was showing Sesikala something in the newspaper, likely an article about the tour. They looked peaceful.
"It's good to be home," Deva said, taking a deep breath of the dry air. "No cameras. No pressure. Just us."
"And no 'Headache'?" Sameer teased, dodging a punch from Deva. "How is the love life? Still fighting over text?"
"She's fine," Deva rolled his eyes. "She's applying for MBAs. She's busy."
The phone on the table buzzed.
Deva glanced at it. Caller ID: MS Dhoni.
The table went quiet. Everyone knew what a call from the Captain meant. Usually, it was strategy. Sometimes, it was trouble.
"Skipper," Deva answered, putting it on speaker so his friends could hear the legend's voice.
"Hello, Vice-Captain," Dhoni's voice came through, calm and distinct.
Deva froze. The orange peel dropped from his hand. "What?"
"The meeting is over," Dhoni said. "The selectors have decided. You are the new Vice-Captain of India."
There was a moment of absolute, stunned silence in the garden. Even the birds seemed to stop chirping.
Sameer's mouth fell open. Arjun stopped typing. Vikram Deva stood up slowly from his chair.
"Me?" Deva asked, his voice barely a whisper. "What about Virat? What about Gambhir he is a senior?"
"Gambhir is out of the squad. Virat is... Virat is happy for you. We just spoke to him. Look, Sid, I vouched for you. I told them you are the man for the big occasion. Don't prove me wrong."
"I won't," Deva said, sitting up straight, his spine rigid. "Thank you, Mahi bhai. This is... big."
"It is," Dhoni agreed. "It means more media. More scrutiny. If we lose, they blame me first, then you. If we win, they praise the team. Welcome to leadership."
"I'm ready."
"Good. Squad announcement is in an hour. Act surprised. Bye."
The call cut.
Deva stared at the phone. Vice-Captain of India. At 20 years old.
"Did... did he just say what I think he said?" Feroz whispered.
"Vice-Captain," Arjun breathed, a massive grin spreading across his face. "You are the Vice-Captain of India!"
Sameer screamed and tackled Deva, knocking the chair over. Feroz joined the pile-on. Arjun was laughing hysterically, clapping his hands.
"Siddu!" Vikram Deva ran over, tears streaming down his face instantly. He pulled Deva out of the scrum and hugged him bone-crushing tight. "Vice-Captain! Oh, Siddanth! Lord Venkateswara has blessed us!"
Sesikala was crying too, her hands over her mouth. "The deputy... you are the deputy!"
Deva hugged his father, feeling the wetness of tears on his shoulder. He looked over Vikram's shoulder at his friends, who were dancing around the lawn like lunatics.
---
Later that evening, the celebrations had quieted down. The friends had left, promising a massive party later.
Deva sat in the living room. His phone rang again. Virat Kohli.
This was the call he was worried about. Virat was senior. Virat had led the U-19s. Virat wanted the job.
"Cheeku," Deva answered.
"Vice-Captain saab," Virat's voice was loud, boisterous. "Should I salute?"
"Stop it," Deva laughed nervously. "Are you... are you okay with this?"
"Okay?" Virat paused. "I won't lie, Sid. I wanted it. I thought I earned it."
"I know," Deva said.
"But," Virat continued, his voice turning serious. "If it had to be anyone else... I'm glad it's you. You have the brain for it. I saw you in the IPL. And I haven't forgotten the T20 World Cup in '09. You saved us in the final. You deserve it."
"I learned aggression from you, Virat," Deva said. "And I need you. I can't do this without you. You are the engine."
"I'm the engine," Virat agreed. "You steer. I'll provide the gas. We run this team together, Sid. You, me, Raina, Rohit. It's our time."
"Our time," Deva echoed. "Wolfpack."
"Wolfpack," Virat laughed. "Now go sleep."
Deva hung up. The tension in his chest dissolved. The brotherhood was intact.
He looked up at the night sky. The stars over Shamshabad were bright.
He was the Vice-Captain of India.
And he was ready.